


Full Circle

by AngeliaDark



Series: Underfell: A.D. Edition [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Child Abuse, Incest, Self-Hatred, Self-Mutilation, Suicidal Thoughts, UF Papyrus, UF Sans, Underfell AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:10:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in the Underground isn't fair.  Sans learned that the hard way early in life, and it never got easier as he grew older.  Pain inflicted on him, he in turn inflicted on others, creating a vicious cycle he would give anything to undo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by betty-the-murder-mare's origin comic on tumblr, I highly recommend it. The rest of the fleshing-out of the story and the title is inspired by the song Prison Sex by Tool. Listen to it over and over while you read, it'll be like brainwashing.

Life in the Underground wasn't fair.

That was an understatement...and one that Sans knew well, more than anyone. His first memory was sitting alone in his dark bedroom listening to some Monster being hunted down and torn apart outside his window.

He was alone so much as a child; solitude was the only constant besides violence in his life, so he knew it intimately. But being alone and alive was better than being surrounded by a crowd of people, any one of whom could be ready and waiting to snap his spine in half. Sans used that solitude to secure his future in reading books found in the house study until he was invited to test his worth in the labs.

In this world where it was kill or be killed, it was a common secret that there were some ways to insure your protection, one of which was becoming a scientist, or a research assistant. Scientists took up shop in the Hotlands, by far the safest of the domains in the Underground. There was a strict code of conduct to insure that scientific and technological progress was not hindered.

That wasn't to say that things were peaceful there...those who were considered 'useless', unless they fled to other domains, were used as test subjects for the scientists, and were rarely ever seen again. Truthfully, Sans felt it was more merciful for them to flee and risk being caught by the Royal guard...rumor has it that unregistered Monsters in the other domains were used as target practice, so at least they would die quickly.

Sans established himself as a scientist well in his early years, and was put to work with Dr. Gaster, to no one's surprise. Sans figured it would be the torture to his good fortune, working with him. He was well-acquainted with the man, what with Dr. Gaster being his own father, but he never referred to him as such. He was never a father growing up, and the man discouraged any form of affection, so Sans didn't expect anything different working with him.

He should have. He should have expected the WORST. Being overworked, underpaid, and having to work harder for even less pay for extra food and supply rations that he desperately needed for Papyrus.

Oh, Papyrus...the one spark of light in this hellhole...

It was rare to find a child of his age that still had clear innocence in his eyes, clear innocence at ALL. Every day, Sans would walk out of his home and see another Monster, another child with the broken, red eyes that were such a common sight that it was jarring to come home and see his bright-eyed little brother beaming at him with such unconditional love...

Ugh, that word and its connotations...with AFFECTION. AFFECTION was better.

But whatever it was, it made Sans so horribly uncomfortable. It put a pain in his soul that was hard to describe, something that made him long for it, but feel guilty for doing so...

...undeserving. That's what he felt. He felt undeserving of the lo—affection that Papyrus would give him. On reflex, he would find himself wondering what Papyrus wanted. Monsters weren't nice without a reason to be. They didn't DO without expecting something done for them in return.

But Papyrus started learning how to cook when he was so small, so Sans could have something to eat when he returned home. He kept their shared house tidy as a pin, and only asked for the barest of attention in return.

Sans found himself giving Papyrus that attention, encouraging the little boy's interests, and bringing him home some toys he managed to pilfer from the garbage dump. He found himself wanting to give Papyrus all the affection he himself never received, to see Papyrus be a better person, and not be another one to fall in this hell.

Papyrus was fond of puzzles, he came to find, and Sans was lucky enough to find a whole stack of puzzle books to give to Papyrus. During his long hours at work, he was glad Papyrus had something fun to amuse himself with; when Papyrus was involved in something, he could tune out most anything, including the sounds of violence outside that Sans had been subjected to.

There were some times that Sans HAD to bring Papyrus to the labs...he wanted Papyrus to have a secure future too, and desperately hoped that exposing Papyrus to his options would help. Despite his innocence, Papyrus was not stupid. The boy was bright, his love of mental stimulation that puzzles offered proving that. That paired with the way he carefully arranged the furniture or his own belongings showed that Papyrus liked patterns and fitting pieces into slots; perhaps a job in technology would be good for him.

Papyrus hated the labs. Everyone scared him, and so did the work that was being done. Every time he came, he clung to Sans and refused to let go unless Sans was the only one in the room. It was in the labs that Sans would see the brightness in Papyrus dim as his little brother would sit by himself with his back to the wall, a puzzle book in his lap while he tuned the rest of the world out instead of looking in on different career opportunities.

It was something that did not go unnoticed, especially, to Sans's distaste, Gaster. The Head Scientist would look in on Papyrus and make things worse by voicing his displeasure, mentioning the need for new test subjects within hearing range. It would only shake Papyrus up further, make Sans more stressed out, and leave the rest of the week feeling dull and tense.

Sans was just glad his area of study—the Void and subsequent anomalies within—wasn't anything that would rattle Papyrus. It was mostly equation work that he would hand off to Gaster for trial and error, so days where he was left alone with Papyrus in the room were best. Sans would work on his formulas, and give Papyrus math sheets to do, having convinced the kid that math was just another puzzle where you took numbers and put them in the proper place. He desperately hoped it would help somewhere down the line somehow.

He somewhat regretted doing so, looking back on it. Papyrus turned out to be brilliant at math, and would ask for more work to do, hoping it would help Sans out. Gaster came around at one point, seeing Papyrus fervently working through algebra papers, and watched for an incredibly uncomfortable amount of time before finally leaving.

Sans really didn't like the way Gaster had watched Papyrus...it was like the scientist was plotting something, and it wasn't anything good. The thought had him paranoid about bringing Papyrus back up to the labs, so he left his little brother at home the next week, telling him there was dangerous research.

Gaster was not pleased.

After the second week straight of Sans refusing to bring Papyrus, Gaster had Sans promoted from doing the theoretical equations work to the applied work, where they would be working in the same lab, in the same room, where Sans could feel the man's horrible presence. All. Day. Long.

...and then it began.

Brief, dismissable touches that Sans would shake off, which increased in frequency throughout the day and became more deliberate, more LINGERING. Hands on his arms, his shoulders, his back, over and over, to the point where Sans could still feel them long after he went home.

He denied it to himself; it couldn't be what he thought—knew—it was. It just COULDN'T. Gaster, the neglectful demanding asshole that he was, was still his father, and fathers didn't do...those things to their children...right? Not even here. Not in this hell, where anyone would do anything to hurt someone...right...?

Wrong. Oh, so wrong.

The touching only got worse. Gaster slid his hands under Sans's shirt and fondled at the bones underneath, nuzzling the top of Sans's skull until Sans cracked and shoved him away.

"What the hell are you DOING!?" he cried, his voice breathing with terror and the current puberty he was going through, which only made him feel worse. Dirtier. FOULER. He brought his arms closer to his body, shaking. "You...you're my FATHER...why are you...?"

Gaster loomed over him, staring down at Sans with glowing red eyelights that seemed to burn with fire but with all the cold carelessness of a Snowdin blizzard. "Because I WANT to," he replied matter-of-factually. "Because I CAN." He reached out, brushing his fingertips over Sans's cheekbone, making the younger Skeleton flinch away. Gaster grabbed his face in one hand, turning it to face him.

"Papyrus is so lovely, isn't he?" he practically purred, making Sans freeze in horror. "I've never seen a child like him, so innocent, so preciously UNSPOILED." He tightened his fingers into Sans's jaw, making the younger wince in pain. "I want to DESTROY him."

Sans's soul lurched, his pale red eyes flaring violently as he shoved Gaster away, snarling. "YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIM!" he shrieked, throwing out his hand and using his magic to grab hold of Gaster's soul to fling him across the room. "DO YOU HEAR ME, OLD MAN!? YOU WON'T TOUCH HIM! I WON'T—"

"—Let me?" Gaster threw off Sans's magic and effortlessly took hold of Sans's soul, his fingers twitching. Sans felt a sharp pain in his soul, crying out as Gaster eased dangerously close that disrupting that 1 HP that Sans had. "You naive little fool, Sans..." He walked over to Sans, levitating the boy at eye-level. "You think that you can delay the inevitable? Fine."

He reached out and took Sans's face in his hand again. "For as long as you keep Papyrus away, you will suffer the fate I had in store for him." He nuzzled Sans's head, forming a dark red ectoplasmic tongue and licking the tears that were coming from Sans's eyesocket. "...and when you finally understand that you're suffering for nothing...when you finally GROW UP and realize that love is a WORTHLESS emotion...bring Papyrus here, and you will suffer no more."

Sans's body shook so hard his bones rattled, crying harder. "...y...you won't...touch Papyrus..." he hissed, glaring at Gaster, his eyelights flickering. "...you sick FUCK."

Gaster smiled. "We'll see," he replied.

* * *

Things only got worse, and Sans supposed he only had himself to blame for it.

Every day, he was loathe to leave the house, knowing what awaited him in the lab, and every day he came back, a little more of his soul tainted and rotten. And he tried...oh god, he tried SO hard not to worry Papyrus about it, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep a nice face on when his own sanity was dwindling by a thread.

Months passed, and seeing Papyrus's smiling face no longer brought joy and hope back into his life...it brought bitterness. Resentment. ANGER. Seeing Papyrus flit around the house like a happy little bird, ignorant to the lengths Sans was going through to KEEP him that way...it ANGERED him.

Papyrus's cheerful chatter became static and white noise that Sans would tune out and try to ignore to little avail, making it harder to interact with the kid. It weighed down on him mentally and emotionally, and he would take to going straight from work to his bedroom to sleep it off, wishing there was more than that he could do to make it all go away.

It soon came to the point where he was taking his anger out on Papyrus, his sweet, innocent brother who only wanted to help and spend time with his big brother. It became a horrible roundabout thing, snapping at Papyrus, and then apologizing and trying to make it up to him, seeing Papyrus's open, welcoming persona curl in on itself a little more each time it happened. More often than naught, Papyrus would read the room and not speak to Sans until he was spoken to first, which Sans simultaneously appreciated and loathed.

To make matters worse, study in his field was progressing, and Sans was volunteering to be a test subject to avoid any more time being subjected to Gaster's sick whims. The sessions left him with splitting headaches brief narcolepsy spells, but during the trials, he couldn't see what he was supposedly meant to be seeing past the Void or the anomalies.

And then he managed to get to sleep at home, and that's when the visions started.

He would see visions of...himself? Not himself. That couldn't be him, that couldn't be the Underground...everything was too...

...wonderful.

He soon realized he wasn't having dreams, he was seeing other universes, flashes of his life now, but different. And they were wonderful.

Sans saw himself and Papyrus living in Snowdin, which was a cheerful, happy little down. Papyrus was playing with other children, and nobody had red eyes, nobody snarled at anyone, and everyone was happy.

He even saw a universe where he and Papyrus lived with their father, but it was NOTHING like how it was here. Gaster was loving and caring, reading Papyrus and Sans bedtime stories, practicing their magic together, visiting King Asgore and having fun in the castle...

….and every one of those visions broke him a little more inside, making him more bitter and angry.

Why couldn't HE have a universe like that!? Why couldn't HE live in a universe where he could go outside without looking over his shoulder for danger, where Papyrus could have friends, where Gaster was a FATHER instead of some horrible creature to be feared?

He didn't know if it was out of exhaustion or out of spite, but Sans didn't tell Gaster about these visions. Let the asshole think this project was a waste, and who knows, maybe King Asgore would do Sans a favor and kill the rat bastard for the 'dead-end research'.

Looking back on it...he wished he would have said something. A put-out Gaster was not a happy Gaster. And when Gaster wasn't happy...it only made things worse for Sans.

Already, three test subjects that had somehow survived their 'community service' time and were ready to go home had been slaughtered in Gaster's rage, and Sans was hunkered down in the corner of his old work room, shaking violently and praying Gaster would just leave.

But since when were his prayers EVER answered?

For years after, he would try to force out the memory of that day. Of what Gaster did to him. Of the pain, the unwitting pleasure, the VIOLATION that forever stained his soul and would never go away no matter how much he wanted it to. How the screams and moans would haunt his nightmares for years and never give him rest.

His soul broke that day, irreparably. The violent shade of red his magic had become was a testament to that.

And like all Monsters who fell into the pit of despair that shattered their souls, he could only continue the cycle in a bid to numb the agony he continuously felt inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to betty-the-murder-mare's comic that heavily inspired the first part of this chapter:  
> http://betty-the-murder-mare.tumblr.com/post/135524636913/prolog-links-below

The walk back to his home seemed to take eons, like a lucid dream where the path stretched for infinity and he never made any progress no matter how long he walked. Everything from his bones to his soul hurt, like nothing had been spared the absolute violation that Gaster had inflicted on him.

His soul felt heavy and full of sludge...he felt filthy. It made his vision filthy. Everything was filthy. Nothing would ever be clean again. His only hope was to sit under the shower back home until he at least felt rinsed enough to function.

Sans opened the door to his house, not even taking notice of Papyrus, who was sitting on the couch, playing with a puzzle cube he had found at the garbage dump a few days ago. Papyrus looked up when Sans walked in, jumping up and hurrying over. Sans was late by three hours today, and Papyrus was understandably worried.

"Brother!" he cried, rushing up and holding Sans's lab coat in his hand. "Sans, where were you? It's been HOURS!"

Sans's unfocused stare was kept straight ahead as he pulled himself from Papyrus's grasp. "...not now..." he muttered, heading for the bathroom. Papyrus grabbed his coat again, tugging it.

"But Sans—"

"I SAID NOT NOW!" Sans snapped, shoving Papyrus away and walking into the bathroom, his hands shaking as he turned on the water.

Papyrus blinked back tears, his hands clenching around the puzzle cube tightly, feeling a sharp pang of anger. For WEEKS, his brother had been snapping at him and ignoring him, and he was getting TIRED of it! He stomped up to the bathroom. "You always ignore me, Sans!" he shouted. "You leave me alone all day and don't talk to me when you come home!" He held up his puzzle cube, feeling a swell of pride in his chest. "Look! I almost solved the puzzle box! I've only got a few sides down, but I think that I'm almost..."

Sans's hands clenched into the sides of the sink, his body shaking hard as Papyrus's voice became nothing more than a shrill, buzzing drone that echoed painfully around his skull. It only worsened the intense migraine he was feeling in his head, and worsened the fiery HATE in his soul, and he just wanted it to STOP.

"...and so I was hoping you'd just help me finish solving it—"

"STOP."

Papyrus's body stiffened, his hand dropping the puzzle cube to the floor as he felt a hot, tight grip on his soul. His body began to shake as he saw Sans turn around, hand glowing with a dark red magical energy that kept a suffocating grip on his soul. "...S...Sans...?"

Sans growled, his eyelights flickering with rage and barely-restrained magical outlash. "Papyrus..." he growled, his voice cold and frightening to Papyrus, sounding like it dropped an octave. "CANT..." He raised his hand, and Papyrus's body rose with it. "YOU..." He threw out his hand, and Papyrus went flying. " _LISTEN!?_ "

Papyrus crashed into the wall with a yelp like a kicked animal. He hunched over, holding his sore head, his body shaking hard. Sans glowered at him, his hand twitching like it was preparing to throw him again, his mind reeling from the flash of anger he had just displayed.

"CANT YOU DO ANYthing...right...?"

As the mist of anger lifted, he felt his magic fizzle, seeing his little brother hunched over on the floor. Oh god...oh GOD, what did he just DO...?

Papyrus felt that flash of anger return with a vengeance, but darker. Deeper. HOTTER. He saw Sans take a step toward him and he violently flinched, his body tensing up with a massive surge of distrust and venom. All the hurt and resentment he had been feeling for the longest time was just building up and building up and he was TIRED of keeping it inside!

"HOW ABOUT YOU!?" he snapped back, glaring at Sans. "YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME ANYMORE! YOU NEVER PAY ME ATTENTION ANYMORE! YOU JUST GO TO THAT STUPID LAB AND DO YOUR USELESS, STUPID WORK THAT NEVER WORKS OUT!" He hit the floor with is fist, his anger flaring hotter. "Any new breakthroughs, BROTHER? Or just another wasted day of stupid theory that doesn't work? I'll bet that's why you were late—you were just trying to find MORE ways to FAIL! LIKE ALWAYS! So WHICH of us isn't getting anything RIGHT?"

Sans could feel his soul shriveling with every word Papyrus spoke, the smothered fire in his soul sparking to life again, the same bitter, poisonous resentment he had once quelled fueling the rising inferno. _How dare he? HOW DARE PAPYRUS BE SO UNGRATEFUL! AFTER ALL HE DID TO KEEP HIM SAFE, FED, CLOTHED—!_

"...you...selfish brat..." he said, his voice shaking with rage as his hand glowed with his magic again, the puzzle cube on the floor rising to his hand. "...you have no idea...do you...?"

Papyrus, whose anger had quelled somewhat after his verbal explosion, felt a pang of regret in his soul at what he had said, feeling a shiver of fear at the shaking, heated tone of Sans's words. He rubbed his arm, wondering what he could say, what he could DO, to apologize, watching with mute confusion as Sans's hands nimbly turned the puzzle around, clicking the pieces together until all of the sides were solid colors.

Sans held the cube in his hand, his aura dark and cold despite the heated glare he was giving his little brother, the cube glowing with his magic before he hurled it with all his strength and then some at Papyrus's head.

Papyrus only saw a flash of red before AGONY cracked through his skull, the pain of which was too much of a shock to even cry out. He clutched his hands to his right eyesocket where he could feel a thick crack, his body shaking from shock and pain.

_DON'T SCREAM_

_DON'T SCREAM_

_DON'T SCREAM_

He curled in on himself, feeling violently ill to his soul, his bones filling with fire that HURT—

Tears prickled at his eyesockets, his heaving breath hitching.

_DON'T CRY_

_DON'T CRY_

_DON'T SCREAM_

_DON'T CRY_

_DON'T SCREAM_

_DON'T CRY_

_DON'T CRY_

_DON'T CRY_

_**NOT** _

_**IN** _

_**FRONT** _

_**OF** _

_ **HIM** _

As soon as he heard the sharp crack of the puzzle cube hitting bone, Sans snapped out of his anger, the red clearing from his eyes as he saw his little brother curled up on the floor, hands clutching at his skull, the offending cube lying on the floor next to him, still smoking from being engulfed with magic.

Oh god...

Oh GOD, what had he DONE!?

He helplessly reached out, his hand twitching, unable to comprehend what he had just done, or what he could do to salvage it. The heaving, hitched intakes of breath were breaking Sans's heart, knowing that HE had caused this condition. He took a step forward, his jaw working without saying anything, not knowing WHAT to say—

Papyrus lowered his hands to the floor, bracing himself up and he turned his head to look at Sans, and Sans felt his soul drop when he saw a huge crack running over Papyrus's right eyesocket that was dripping marrow over the younger Skeleton's cheekbone. But what really tore him apart that moment was the fact that Papyrus was glaring at him with dark, blood-red eyelights.

His mouth opened again, quivering with the need to say something—ANYTHING—!

**"I HATE YOU."**

Papyrus's words hit him like a physical blow, making him take a step back from the smaller form that was shakily picking himself off the floor. Papyrus paused for a moment on one knee, swaying for just a moment before getting his bearings, then slowly reached over and grabbed the puzzle cube from off the floor before standing upright. His expression had gone oddly neutral, though his eyelights blazed like fire, the magic especially cracking within his right eyesocket, no doubt causing pain around that cracked rim.

Sans remained frozen where he was as Papyrus walked past him to his bedroom, the door shutting with deceptive calm. Silence rang through the house for the longest time before Sans dropped to his knees on the floor, one arm curling around his middle as the other braced himself up, suddenly feeling sick to his soul.

_What had he DONE?_

Papyrus's door was locked when he finally gathered enough of his senses to check on him. As worried sick as he felt, he knew that forcing his way in would only cause more harm than good. He'd already scarred his little brother, the last thing he wanted was to stoke the fire he caused.

Knowing Papyrus couldn't stay in there forever, Sans gathered up medical supplies and some food, leaving it in front of the door before going into his own room, curling up on his bed, staring at the wall.

He'd scarred his little brother. He'd lashed out, and hurt him beyond repair. He broke Papyrus's spirit and drove him to the same red-eyed darkness as everyone else in this godforsaken world with one moment of anger.

Every promise he made to Papyrus, to keep him safe, happy, and innocent, had been broken. God, what kind of creature WAS he, skipping any form of EXP and going right for a LOVE on his own little brother?!

Sans buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with heavy sobs, wishing more than he ever wished for anything that he could take it all back.

* * *

It had been a month, and Papyrus still hadn't spoken.

He had finally come out of his room after two days to eat, but he didn't speak a word to Sans. He didn't acknowledge Sans in any way, going about his business in numb silence; eating, tidying up, and then going back into his room. Sans tried to talk, he really did, but his voice always seemed to vanish at the sight of that untreated crack.

The medical supplies had gone untouched; Sans knew that from waking up and seeing them unused and looked like they had been kicked aside. Sans knew from personal experience the repercussions of letting bone injuries go untreated, and for Papyrus to be refusing to have a SKULL injury looked at...

...it would get bad enough that if Sans didn't want Papyrus to have his HP drained to nothing he would have to take him to Gaster, the only person alive with a PhD in medicine qualified to treat Skeletons.

He finally found his voice, coaxing, PLEADING through the bedroom door for Papyrus to let him take care of the skull crack, but to no avail. Papyrus continued to say nothing.

After a month, Sans didn't even have to consider taking Papyrus to Gaster.

Gaster came to their home.

In hindsight, not going to the labs without so much as a call was a bad idea.

It was an evening where Papyrus was brooding by himself in his room, with the door at least open, and Sans sitting in the living room inwardly panicking over his brother's worsening condition when there was a knock at the door. Whether it was tired apathy or the will to just not live anymore should it be a door-to-door killer, Sans didn't even check the peephole before opening it, but he almost slammed it right back shut when he saw Gaster standing there.

Gaster stared down at Sans with a mix of irritation and sick delight at the smaller Skeleton's shock and discomfort, letting himself in without asking first, looking around at the house. "...Very tidy," he observed. "No doubt Papyrus's doing. Your work space is always filthy at the end of your shift."

Sans stood there silently, his hands flexing rapidly by his sides, too terrified to move. Gaster ignored him, looking around again. "And where IS Papyrus, hm? You've been neglecting your WORK, Sans...perhaps he could be a better substitute."

Sans's head jerked up, his left eye blazing angrily for a moment before snuffing out, his sight catching Papyrus upstairs on the landing, staring down at the two of them. Gaster turned and follows Sans's gaze, his eyelights shrinking slightly in genuine surprise.

"...Oh my," he said, walking to the bottom of the stairs, holding out a hand. "...Papyrus, come here, and let me look at that."

To Sans's horror, Papyrus quietly obeyed, holding onto the banister tightly as he weakly stepped down until he was at eye-level with Gaster, staring at him with numb, dark red eyelights. Gaster reached out and touched the crack, the bone around it having a sickly dark grey complexion around it showing an infection. Papyrus only made the tiniest of flinches in pain, his hand tightening around the banister.

Gaster frowned, his expression contemplative before he scooped Papyrus up and headed for the door. "Let's get to my lab, and we'll get that looked at," he said, his voice having a sickeningly sweet fatherly tone to it that made Sans's backbone crawl. Sans felt a flare of protectiveness surge up again, stalking after Gaster.

"Don't you FUCKING dare touch him, you—" He was cut off by a tight grip on his soul, seeing Gaster's head turn enough to show his glowing red eyes.

"Oh, Sans," he purred, shaking his head in mock disappointment, "haven't you done enough already?" He tucked Papyrus's face into his shoulder, his eyelights dimming, the hold on Sans's soul letting go. "After all...this is all your fault."

Sans sat on the floor, shaking violently, those words ringing in his skull as Gaster carried Papyrus out of the house, and then there was silence. His vision blurred as tears pooled around his eyesockets, dripping onto the carpet as he cried.

This was...all his fault...

By the time he gathered his senses and realized that Papyrus was ALONE with Gaster, it was already a day later. Sans ran the entire way to the labs, shoving scientists and assistants out of his way as he sprinted to Gaster's lab, hurling the door open.

Empty.

"PAPYRUS!" he screamed, running around and throwing open cabinets and closets, frantically searching for his little brother. "PAPYRUS WHERE ARE YOU!?" He ran out of the lab, nearly knocking over Alphys, Gaster's second-in-command. "ALPHYS! WHERE'S PAPYRUS AND GASTER!?"

Alphys dusted her jacket off, adjusting her glasses. "Dusted," she said flippantly. Sans's soul sunk.

"...what...?"

"Dusted," she repeated. "Well, Gaster, anyway. Don't know WHERE the Guard took the kid—"

"WHAT!?" Sans shouted, grabbing her shoulders. "WHY THE FUCK DID THE GUARD TAKE PAPYRUS!?"

Alphys pushed his hands from her shoulders. "You kill a Royal Scientist, you're bound to get punished for it," she said. "Not that I really mind. It's made ME Head Royal Scientist. But even kids aren't exempt from getting what's due."

Sans felt a wave of nausea, shoving Alphys aside and running for the Guard in charge of Hotlands security, who was just leaving the lab. "WAIT!" He caught up to the Guard, panting, close to tears again. "Please...please, where's my little brother...?"

The Guard gave him a once-over, hardly even having to guess who he was talking about. "The kid's being taken to the Capitol," he replied gruffly. Sans almost felt his legs give out from under him.

"What...? No! Please, he's just a kid, PLEASE—!" He reached out pleadingly, only to be pushed away by the Guard.

"Any 'kid' who can dust a Monster as powerful as Dr. Gaster is someone the Captain takes an interest in," the Guard replied. "He's being taken for Guard training. Who knows? Maybe he'll put that killing to good use."

Sans really DID drop to the floor, covering his mouth with his hands. "No..." he murmured, shaking his head. "No...no, Guard training will DESTROY him...! He's too YOUNG, PLEASE...!"

"That's not my problem," the Guard said, turning to the door again. "The Captain thinks he has promise. If he doesn't, he dies, simple as that." He left, leaving Sans slumped on the floor without another thought.

Sans was all cried out by that point, all fight having left his body entirely.

His little brother was gone.

Papyrus had no battle training, no survival experience...Gaster was probably killed by getting too cocky and Papyrus lashing out and getting a lucky hit. Guard training was the epitome of the creed 'kill or be killed'...only three trainees out of a usual batch of ten walked out alive...

He buried his face in his hands, slumping back against the wall.

Gaster was right.

This was all his fault.

* * *

Ten years was a long time to forget, and yet he couldn't forget anything.

Sans sat in the back of Grillby's in Snowdin, his head down and hood pulled up, even though it was years past the point of anyone caring who he was or why he was there. Ten years ago, with nothing left to really live for in Hotlands, he ran. He ran through Hotlands, through Waterfall, and into the worst area of the Underground, Snowdin.

The town was the worst for its lawlessness and highest murder rate, giving it the nickname of Bloodbath. Only the worst of the worst lived there, so Sans naturally felt right at home with the trash. Using what money he managed to save in Hotlands, he rented a small one-room apartment behind the bar, and kept up payments by getting a job as a sentry. The work was easy and the pay was lousy, but it kept him alive, albeit miserably so.

The only bit of warmth he had—literally—was in Grillby's bar. The bar was the only guaranteed safe spot in Snowdin, since Grillby was a Monster with high standards of living, if his overly-posh dress and bar interior was any indication. He allowed NO fighting in his establishment, telling anyone with quarrel to take it outside. Sans had seen firsthand the repercussions of disobeying Grillby's rules, and after the inferno died down, there wasn't even any dust left to put in the dumpster out back.

Grillby was also a decent conversationalist, if not somewhat of a total dick when giving his opinion. Sans asked him once, if he was so powerful why hadn't he joined the Guard, and Grillby just replied that he and the King had something of a bad history, and he wouldn't deign to take direct instructions from 'the horned bastard', and would rather be his own boss. Understandable, if not a bit overkill to take his business all the way to Snowdin just to get as far away from the Capitol as possible, but Sans wasn't anyone to say anything. Sans had come here to get away from everything in Hotlands, so he and Grillby had at least THAT much in common.

It wasn't too far down the line that he found more common ground with Grillby. The man was a total sadist at times, and quickly honed in on the fact that every year around the same time, Sans would become more depressed than usual and begin a long session self-flagellation; picking fights with other Monsters, drinking himself stupid, and chipping away at his own bones.

Grillby was more than happy to 'help' Sans during these horrible times, giving Sans the pain and punishment he so craved, burning and scratching at his bones, humiliating him with degrading words, fucking him roughly over the dumpster like the garbage he was, and then adding hot water over those open wounds by cuddling him and listening to him bawl about what a horrible brother, a horrible PERSON he was.

It was a terrible stability, but it was stability nonetheless, and Sans put up with it. It was all he deserved, after all.

So there he was, in the bar halfway to being completely shitfaced and ready to start begging Grillby for degrading sex, when there was a commotion outside. He was ready to ignore it when a Monster threw open Grillby's door and started shouting for all Snowdin sentries to make their way front and center to the town square NOW.

"Oh, brilliant," Grillby muttered, throwing his polishing cloth down and putting a glass away. "That can only mean the Royal Guard is assigning a Guard to police this place." He glanced at Sans. "It looks like your usual fare will have to wait until the folks here put THIS one down like they did all the others. SO sorry."

Sans was familiar with this by now; every couple of years or so, the Captain assigned a Guardsman to one of the districts of the Underground to be put in charge, and Snowdin was the worst place to be assigned to. Guardsmen were put in ranks from 1 to 4, Rank 1s being directly under the Captain and Rank 4s being given the worst jobs. The pasts decade, no less than five Rank 4s had met their demise being assigned to Snowdin. He was SURE it was a deliberate move on the Captain's part to get rid of the loose ends that happened to make it through Guard training.

He sighed, slapping down some money and shoved his hands in his pockets, trudging outside and joining the other sentries in the town square. Other Monsters slunk around, mostly out of curiosity, but also to see which Guard was going to be the one to tear apart as soon as the Captain and the rest of the Guard was out of their domain.

The Captain of the Royal Guard stood in the middle of everything, a large, imposing Reptile Monster with sharp teeth and a battle axe strapped to his back. Next to him was a tall female Water Monster with a patch over her left eye, possibly his Rank 1; she certainly looked dangerous enough to be.

"Citizens of Snowdin!" the Captain shouted, his voice loud and rumbling, his sharp eyes flicking around to make sure he had attention. "I have chosen your resident Guardsman!" More sharp teeth were bared in a cruel, almost humored smile. "I hope that he will finally bring some order to this disgusting excuse of a habitation. RANK TWO!"

Immediately, there was a low murmur among everyone; Rank 2s were almost unheard of. But by Guard standards, if you weren't Rank 1 standards, you were Rank 3 or lower. Rank 2 meant that there were TWO Rank 1s, but the other was the senior trainee and won by default.

Sans frowned, pulling his hood lower, feeling a crawl up his spine when he heard heavy footfalls in the snow approaching. A Rank 2 HERE...what was the Captain even THINKING...?

Louder murmurs rose up, and Sans became aware that the other sentries were looking at him almost expectantly, in shock. He raised his head, his hood sliding down slightly, and felt his legs give out from under him.

Next to the Captain was a seven-foot tall Skeleton Monster, clad in black armor with red gloves and boots, a familiar red scarf waving in the cold wind, dark red eyelights glaring out from pitch-black eyesockets, the right of which had a large crack running over it. Teeth filed to razor-sharp points gleamed in the dim light as he surveyed over the crowed.

"Rank 2 Guardsman Papyrus, you are assigned to the town of Snowdin in the snow district. Do you accept this assignment?" the Captain stated, knowing the answer already.

Papyrus stood rod-straight, taller even than the Captain, giving him a sharp nod. "I do, Captain Rex," he replied, his voice as sharp as the rest of his image. The Captain nodded back, gesturing to the other Guards.

"Then I will leave you to it, Guardsman!" he barked. "First reports due in a week. MOVE OUT!" He headed out of Snowdin, all business as he left Papyrus standing in the town square.

"Later, punk," the Rank 1 sneered, following her Captain. Papyrus didn't react, simply standing there until the other Guards were out of the town, then turned on heel to face the sentries.

"My name is Papyrus," he stated, walking up and down the line, looking down at all of them. "But you will all refer to me as 'Sir', or 'Boss'. You've all done shit jobs keeping order in this disgusting excuse of a town, so I have been assigned to make sure you actually do your jobs."

Sans remained sitting in the snow, unable to force himself to stand back up, trying to comprehend what was happening. This couldn't be real...it COULDN'T be...! He could hear the footsteps approach him and his body tensed up, then he heard the sound of MORE approaching, accompanied by growling.

He looked up, seeing several of the more bloodthirsty citizens closing in, most of whom were Dog Monsters, eyes glowing in the dimness, teeth bared hungrily.

"Oh lookie here, boys..." one of them growled, being the pack leader of the gang. "...our new chew toy is made of BONES...looks like the Guard is starting to send us treats."

Papyrus turned around to them, his expression blank. "You will cease and desist," he said, his voice commanding. "Get back to your homes."

The Monsters laughed, haunches raised. "Let's show this chew toy how things work around here!" the Dog Monster barked, bolting right for Papyrus. Sans raised his hand, his mouth open to shout SOMETHING to Papyrus—

Bones sprung up from the ground, impaling all of the Monsters that were rushing Papyrus. Gasps and cries of horror rung out through the sentries and the observing Monsters, watching the impaled twitch and wail in pain, but didn't dust. Sans stared, shaking as his left eye glowed just enough to pick up their stats, seeing that every single one of the impaled Monsters were at 1 HP.

Papyrus walked among the impaled Monsters, standing in front of the pack leader, grabbing the bone and twisting it hard. The Dog Monster keened loudly before he turned into dust as Papyrus pulled the bone out of the ground, turning to the others. "The rest of you will sit here for the rest of the night!" he shouted, tapping one end of the bone in one hand. "Those who survive the night will be set free with a warning. Those who dust are just shit out of luck."

He turned to the rest of the town. "Things are going to CHANGE around here," he said, his voice soft, but carrying through to everyone clearly. "Get back to your homes and your jobs! If anyone is caught assisting the punished, you'll find yourself right along with them!" Everyone except the sentries scattered, and Papyrus turned to face them again, his hands folded behind his back.

"Which of you are on shift right now?" he asked. Five in line meekly raised their hands. "Get back to work. Do NOT let me find you slacking off, am I understood?" The sentries nodded assent and ran for their posts, leaving Sans and three others. "The rest of you, get to your homes, and no not be late for shift change tomorrow. Dismissed!"

The other three ran, and Sans remained kneeling in the snow, watching Papyrus turn and head for the Guard dwellings that were assigned to him. In a flash of nerve and adrenaline, he jumped up, running after him. "PAPYRUS!"

Papyrus stopped on the path, pausing for a beat before turning around. Sans caught up to him, inwardly reeling at how TALL Papyrus had become the past decade, having not seen him since he was so small...

_Small enough to throw across the room._

He shook off that guilty thought, staring up at Papyrus, his left eye flickering red with nerves, his hands shaking. "...Pap...bro..." he murmured, unable to get out much more than that. Papyrus's eyelights flickered for a moment before his arm swung out, backhanding Sans into the snow.

Sans laid there, frozen at the motion before a pain in his cheekbone set in, shakily looking up at Papyrus, who gave him no pity in the returned look.

"I believe I already told you how you should address me, Sentry Sans," he said, his voice colder than the snow Sans was lying in. "You would do well to remember it."

Sans swallowed hard, his hand pressed to his throbbing cheekbone. That's right. He was a sentry, and Papyrus was a Guard...that made him...

"...Yes...Boss..." he replied, his voice wavering from the intense desire to curl up and cry. Papyrus sneered down at him.

"That's right," he replied. "That's what I am. That's ALL I am, do you understand me?" He reached into his pocket, taking something out and dropping it onto the snow in front of Sans. "That's all I'll ever be to you." He turned on heel and continued on his way.

Sans rubbed his throbbing cheekbone, shakily reaching out and picking up the item, dropping it back into the snow when he recognized it as the puzzle box that had scarred his brother ten years ago.

It was unsolved, dented, and torn from age.

A perfectly pathetic analogy.


	3. Chapter 3

Well, Papyrus hadn't been lying when he said that things were going to be different in Snowdin.

The first day alone was extremely trying. Three out of the seven Monsters that tried to attack Papyrus had dusted overnight, and a fourth dusted the moment Papyrus vanished the bones away. The last three were finally able to get some treatment, but not before Papyrus gave out the new rules of Snowdin.

Sentries were to never be late unless they were on their deathbeds. Reports were to be handed in immediately upon shift change, no exceptions. Shift swapping was permissible, but had to be approved by Papyrus himself. The sentries were expected to help keep the peace between shifts, and were to keep their behavior professional at all times.

The citizens were not exempt from the rules. Street brawling was expressly forbidden, and Papyrus said that anyone who wanted to fight had to request a sanctioned fight to him. Anyone caught fighting was punished. Cases of self-defense were heavily looked into, and dealt with on an individual basis.

Punishments for disobeying the new rules varied from being jailed for several days for minor infractions, to a 24-hour public impalement on bones for a major infraction. The capitol punishment was a public execution, for which participation viewing was mandatory.

It only took two public executions for the attitudes around to really change. Seeing the pack leader die was the first, but the second being a night shift sentry drunkenly punching Papyrus in the face was the one that really stuck.

The execution was not quick, and it was not clean. Sans once read human history books, of horrible means of execution possible, and the things he saw his little brother do to that sentry was certain to have been proudly added to that book.

And the worst part was the WAY Papyrus did it; there was no manic fury to it, there was no intense GLEE...there was only an unnerving calm, a practiced ease to it that told Sans that Papyrus had done this before, many times. It was the casual indifference that really shook Sans to the core.

Papyrus...the little brother who would cry if he scraped a kneecap, who hid behind Sans's lab coat when scared...took apart a sentry piece by piece, HP by HP, and then let him expire in agony like it was nothing, and made everyone watch.

Sans honest-to-gods feared for his life. Unlike the rest of Snowdin, Papyrus had a real grudge with him, and knew he was waiting for him to mess up, to put one toe out of line...so Sans kept his head down and followed the rules to the absolute best of his ability.

He had a few close calls because of his lingering narcolepsy, but had been incredibly lucky that he hadn't brought any tardies or absences to Papyrus's attention. The closest miss he had was getting to his post JUST as Papyrus was making rounds to check progress, sweating buckets until his sharp-eyed brother left and almost passing out right then and there.

The rest of his shift was so stressful that he went straight to Grillby's right after shift change and drank himself incoherent before his overdue garbage-fucking out back. When he was finished he felt dirtier than the trashcans, but his masochism was sated, for the time being.

Considering it was his day off the next day, Sans went home to sleep off his usual self-disgust and hangover, his senses just barely able to sense something amiss when he walked into his apartment. His instincts kicked in .2 seconds before a Monster's attack nearly hit him.

Through his drunken haze, he was at least able to soul-sense more incoming attacks, dodging as best he could, looking for an exit and only finding the window. Not one of his smarter drunken decisions, but it was the best he had. He dove right through, only after realizing his HP probably wouldn't sustain the fall, and braced himself for the impact.

It never came.

And he blacked out before he could contemplate WHY.

* * *

 

He learned later that Papyrus had happened to be walking by and saw Sans jump out the window, and used his magic to stop his fall.

It had turned out that his assailants were Monsters that were less than happy with Papyrus's new order of things, and figured taking it out on Sans would be the next best thing since it was no fucking secret that they were related; Sans had been drunkenly lamenting for a decade about how shitty a brother he was.

There had been three would-be assassins in his apartment, and those three had been publicly executed while Sans slept off the near-miss and the hangover...which happened to be in the town jailhouse.

After his hangover was gone and he learned what happened, Papyrus came in and stared down at him in disgust.

"You drank yourself so stupid you not only failed to notice your attackers until it was almost too late, and THEN you had the BRILLIANT idea to jump out the window," he sneered. "Pathetic. And what a way to make me look like a fool, having you embarrass me with your pitiful incompetence. I even had to execute them, rather than you performing your own self-defense!" He turned to leave, shooting Sans a glare over his shoulder.

"WEAK."

Sans was left stinging in the jailhouse for another two days, and by the time he was out, there was a new rule: public drunkenness was punishable by a week in the jailhouse and unpaid community service for another week after. Sans was put on his community service after his sentry shifts, which left him no free time to get that inebriated again.

His popularity because of that law didn't get any better, nor did his standing with his brother. Sans took to hiding out in Grillby's after his shifts, but didn't dare drink more than what gave him a buzz out of fear.

Although he was sure Papyrus would joint him for even drinking at all, he felt safe having those few drinks to take the edge off since Grillby was not a big fan of Papyrus. Not only was Papyrus taking away a good chunk of his business, but Papyrus was also a Royal Guard who took orders up the ladder passed down from King Asgore. So Grillby's bar was practically a speakeasy and a place for 'usual business' to take place, as long as, per usual, violent business was taken elsewhere.

Considering Sans didn't feel comfortable going back to his apartment anymore, he paid Grillby extra to let him use an unused closet to take naps between shifts. After awhile, he just stopped paying for his apartment and let it be repossessed, stashing his few possessions in the closet he was sleeping in.

The arrangement didn't last very long.

It was long after his shift change and he was having a drink with dinner when the door to the bar opened, and the whole establishment went dead silent. Sans felt a jolt of dread crawl up his spine, not even having to turn around to know who was there.

His spine remained rigid as the sound of thick heels crossed across the floor and stopped right behind him. His hand was clenched around the drink in his hand, almost enough to crack the glass; there was no hiding that he was drinking, even though it was only his first of the night.

Grillby entered his line of sight, looking displeased at Papyrus IN his bar. "Can I help you, Guardsman Papyrus?" he asked, hardly bothering to keep the attitude out of his voice. Sans almost flinched when he heard leather-gloved hands flex behind his back.

"You can start by calling me SIR," Papyrus's voice replied, the sharpness making Sans sweat with nerves. "And no, there is nothing I require from you."

Without warning, Sans felt a hand grab the back of his shirt and jerk him right off the bar stool, his drink going flying. He yelped, flailing wildly to instinctively get his balance.

"I do not allow violence in my establishment, SIR," Grillby said, glowing eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

"Oh, don't worry," Papyrus said, "we're leaving." He walked out of the bar, dragging Sans with him. Sans saw the pitying looks of the other par patrons as he was dragged, but nobody made a move to help. Not that he thought they would.

Once they were outside, Papyrus jerked him up by the shirt roughly. "Don't let yourself be dragged like some pathetic infant, you louse!" he snapped, then roughly pushed Sans back. Sans stumbled but caught his footing, reflexively clenching his hands, but just barely keeping himself from lashing back out. Papyrus made a contemplative sound.

"So you're not drunk this time," he muttered. "No matter." He grabbed the back of Sans's shirt again and pulled him along. "Between your drunken stunt out the window, your history of brawling, and now your most RECENT state of SLEEPING IN A GODDAMN CLOSET—" _SHIT, how did he know about THAT!?_ "—I have HAD it with you embarrassing yourself, and more importantly, embarrassing ME!"

Sans began to sweat again as he was half-dragged to Papyrus's living quarters, which was a very decently-sized house on its own. Inside was a large dog beast that growled when the door opened, but was silenced with a single look from Papyrus. Considering the discoloration around the fur on its mouth, Sans could only guess that Papyrus kept the beast as a guard and attack-beast, and now no longer wondered why Carl from the bar was missing a hand.

Papyrus pulled Sans through the house and into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and shoving him back into it, rummaging around drawers.

"It's unavoidable to keep the fact that we are brothers out of question," he growled, shoving some items aside. "And that means everything that YOU do reflects on ME." He flicked his sharp eyelights at Sans, who stiffened and felt a shudder down his spine. "I will NOT have a drunk for a brother, I will NOT have a vagabond for a brother, and I WILL NOT HAVE A WEAK LITTLE PISSANT FOR A BROTHER."

He turned around, holding up a file. "It's all about image, Sans," he said, the file glinting dangerously in his hand. "So let's SHARPEN that image."

* * *

 

Come to find, having his teeth filed to points was long and EXTREMELY painful. He was ashamed to find that he cried twice, which earned him sharp slaps in reprimand. It was the early hours of morning before the ordeal was finished, and Sans was close to passing out from the pain in his mouth.

The worst part was, Papyrus told him he still had to take his shift in a half-hour, and that he had best rinse out his mouth and get to his post before he was late.

It was all he could do to not pass out during his entire shift, and by some MIRACLE, he made it through without succumbing to the pain or his narcolepsy. He finished his shift, wrote out a report, and trudged back to the swap station, where the other sentries were giving him odd looks, only the pain in his mouth reminding him that they were staring at his filed teeth.

He clocked out and beelined for Grillby's to go take a much-needed long sleep in his closet, only to find Grillby standing at the door, arms crossed and looking more than a little pissed off. "...what's goin' on?" he asked, his words slurred slightly from not being used to his new teeth.

"Your brother told me to inform you that you're to report to his house," he said, looking like it was physically paining him to obey any order a Guard gave him. "And to make haste."

Sans was almost swaying on his feet from exhaustion and close to tears for the third time that day, but he gave Grillby a 'thank-you' gesture, turning and trudging toward Papyrus's house.

He noticed on the way there that Monsters that were coming from the opposite direction were almost jumping out of his way, and absently figured that having a Skeleton Monster with filed teeth, a lurking gait, and dead exhaustion around his eyesockets wasn't exactly a friendly sight to behold.

Sans finally made it to the door and knocked, flinching when he heard the roaring bark of Papyrus's dog beast that was promptly silenced before the door opened.

"You certainly took your time getting here, Sans," he said, turning and walking back into the house. Sans followed, shutting the door behind him as hastily as he could, keeping a flickering eye at the dog beast, who was eyeing him hungrily.

"...'m sorry," he replied. "...I haven't...I mean, I'm just tired..."

"LAZY, you mean," Papyrus said. "It was one night without sleep, and the coffee is free at the shift station." He folded his hands behind his back, a gesture Sans recognized as 'business-like'. "And laziness to the degree of not even having your own home and instead sleeping in a CLOSET, does not reflect well on me." He pinned Sans in place with his razor-sharp glare. "You will be residing here, where I can keep a close eye on you from now on."

Sans's jaw went slack, unable to settle on one of two emotions: gratitude or horror. On the one hand, he had a home again. It was well-kept and paid for by the Guard; and the way things were now, it had to be one of the safest places in Snowdin other than Grillby's bar. On the other...it was with Papyrus. He wouldn't get any privacy, his every move would be scrutinized and judged...

"Is that ungratefulness I see on your face, Sans?" Papyrus said, snapping Sans out of his thoughts with the horrible realization that he had taken way too long in saying anything. He floundered for something to say, only to back up quickly when Papyrus stalked over to him. "I give you a place to stay in my OWN residence!" He reached out and grabbed Sans by the front of his shirt. "I replace those HIDEOUS excuses of clothing with something more SUITABLE!" He slammed Sans into the wall, growling loudly. "I even take steps to insure that you will not EMBARRASS yourself in this filthy excuse of domicile, and you repay me with UNGRATEFULNESS!?"

"I...I AM grateful!" Sans sputtered, shaking. "REALLY, Papyrus, I AM—!" He yelped when Papyrus slammed him into the wall again.

"WHAT did I say about how you should address me!?" Papyrus snapped, slamming Sans into the wall again and this time letting him drop. Sans winced, his head swimming from exhaustion and being hit against the wall, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Look at me." Sans shook, unable to lift his head out of terror. "I SAID LOOK AT ME!"

Sans's head snapped up, tears brimming at his eyesockets, seeing Papyrus's expression shift into disgust at the sight. Papyrus backed up and walked over to a wall that was decorated with a line of different weapons, taking down a short whip and snapping it out before walking back over to Sans, who was pressed back against the wall in terror.

"I think you need some TRAINING, Sans, to remind you of how your betters should be addressed," he hissed, giving Sans no warning before snapping the whip out, catching Sans in the shoulder. Sans yelped in pain, clutching his shoulder tightly.

"PAP—AAAGH!" he cried as he was whipped again.

"It's BOSS!" Papyrus snapped, his eyelights glowing venomously. "After every strike, you will repeat 'Boss', and this will continue until you REMEMBER it!" He cracked the whip again, catching Sans in the arm. "SAY it!"

"BOSS! PLEASE, I—!"

_CRACK_

"ALL I want to hear from you is 'BOSS'! Now SAY it!"

"BOSS!"

_CRACK_

"BOSS!"

_CRACK_

"BOSS...!"

_CRACK_

"...B...BOSS...!"

_CRACK_

Over and over and over, until Sans lost count of how many times he had been struck. He finally broke down sobbing, covering his head with his stinging hands. "BOSS, PLEASE, BOSS, PLEASE, I'M SORRY! I'm sorry Boss, please please please...!"

At last, no more whips came, and he heard Papyrus walk back over to the wall and put the whip back into place.

"Now perhaps it will stick with you," Papyrus said, his voice as calm and composed as always. "Your room is upstairs to the right. Go to bed and do NOT sleep in past seven tomorrow. I will not have laziness in my house!"

Sans wiped his wet face, his tears half-blinding him as he practically crawled to the staircase and forced himself up each and every step, every movement agony. He finally made it to his room, which was as scarce as a jailhouse cell with only a mattress without a bed frame, a small barred window, and a closet without a door showing a closet full of new clothing.

He didn't have any time to either be grateful or self-pitying about the room before he collapsed on the mattress and finally let sweet, merciful unconsciousness envelop him.

* * *

 

Things were simultaneously better and worse since moving in with Papyrus.

On the bright side, he had a certain level of security he had never known before, with Monsters avoiding him almost entirely. He also had a decent roof over his head, new, better-fitting clothing, and a personal micro-manager who kept him busy enough for him to not indulge in his more self-destructive activities.

On the other hand, he had no privacy, no personal time, and hardly a day went by that he didn't suffer physically for SOME reason or the other because of Papyrus. Days where Sans suffered a migraine all day were his GOOD days; it was better than going to work all day with bruised bones and open wounds.

The thing that really struck Sans the most was that no matter what Papyrus did to him, it did nothing to damage his 1 HP. When the pain wasn't overwhelming enough to knock him senseless, Sans would lie awake and wonder how Papyrus managed to put bruises and dents in his body and still not disrupt that precious balance that Sans put himself on.

Still, the thought that Papyrus had the ability to apparently do what he wanted without killing him by accident shook Sans to the core. It pushed him to keep his head down and out of Papyrus's way as often as possible.

It wasn't easy on himself, though. No matter how organized and strict Papyrus kept his life, there was still chaos that only his own ten years' worth of ritual could settle. He would chip at his bones where Papyrus was sure to not see during particularly stressful days. He would guzzle down mustard in place of alcohol, since Grillby's personal blend of the condiment carried enough of a burn for a placebo effect, and after a particularly trying month after which he finally got a blessed day off, he spent it bent over a garbage can recanting his failures as a brother as Grillby fucked him and egged him on almost cruelly.

After the fact, unlike the other times, there was no sense of satisfaction; only shame as Sans trudged home, glad that as long as he kept to the rules, Papyrus didn't care what he did on his day off.

That small hint of gladness was dashed when Papyrus honed in on him the moment he set foot in the door, and had him held up by a suffocating hold on the soul.

"B...Boss...!" he choked out, feeling like his body was on fire, twitching hard as Papyrus stalked over to him. "...what...did I DO...?!"

Papyrus glared down at him, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "Tell me, Sans..." he growled, the eyelight in his right eyesocket glowing like fire, "...do you spread your legs for EVERYONE in this town? Is that your REAL job here? The town WHORE?"

Sans gasped, feeling a rush of shame run down his spine. "N...no...!" he stammered, shaking his head vehemently. "No, I SWEAR—!" He cut off with a yelp when Papyrus tightened the hold around his soul.

"Do. NOT. Lie to me!" Papyrus leaned in closer, the growling getting louder. "And over garbage cans, Sans? Like lowlife TRASH? Have you no DIGNITY? No STANDARDS!?" He grabbed the back of Sans's jacket, dragging him upstairs before throwing him into the bathroom. "Clean yourself, you disgusting worm!" he snapped. "I can still smell the trash on you!"

Sans winced as he shakily stood up, fighting like mad to keep the welling tears back as he took off his jacket and shirt, starting on his pants when Papyrus grabbed his shoulder and jerked him around. "WHAT IS THIS!?"

What was wha—oh. Oh FUCK. Papyrus saw his newer chipping scars. He stammered to reply, but nothing but monosyllabic sounds came out as Papyrus's hand tightened on his shoulder with enough force to nearly crack bone.

"You are just determined to humiliate me, AREN'T you, Sans?!" Papyrus hissed, jerking the rest of Sans's clothes off before running the water on hot and shoving Sans under it. "Wash your disgusting self!"

Sans used the shower water on his face as an excuse to finally let the tears pour out, feeling too numb to even mind the scalding temperature of the water as he washed his bones clean, flinching every time his hand brushed against a chipped bone. A few minutes later, Papyrus snatched him from the shower, turned the water off, and dragged him, still soaking wet, out of the bathroom and, to Sans's confusion and dread, to his own bedroom.

"...B...Boss...?" Sans muttered tentatively before being thrown into the room and against the bed, which was decently suited for someone of Papyrus's height with a wrought-iron headboard...that...had chains attached to it... "...Boss, I—"

Papyrus flipped him around and pinned him back on the bed, a hand around his neck with just enough pressure to threaten rather than harm. The taller Skeleton's eyelights were glowing a dark blood red, a rattling growl of almost hunger rumbling in his rib cage as he leered over his smaller brother. "Perhaps I have not made myself perfectly clear..." Papyrus said, his right eyelight glowing brighter. "...you belong to ME, Sans, and NOBODY. ELSE."

Sans felt his body freeze up when he felt...THINGS crawling over his legs and hip bones, getting horrible flashbacks to that day in Gaster's lab. _Oh please...oh GOD no...!_

"Do I not feed you, Sans?" Papyrus hissed, his hand tightening around Sans's neck. "Do I not clothe you? Do I not give you a roof over your head, safety from those lesser lowlifes?" He leaned down closer, a dark red ectoplasmic tongue slithering from between his sharp teeth. "Have I not GRACIOUSLY repaid you for the duty you took when I was a baby bones?"

"I DIDN'T DO THAT FOR REPAYMENT!" Sans wailed, his mind cracking under the trauma that this treatment was triggering and the fact that it was his LITTLE BROTHER that was doing it. "I DIDN'T DO IT FOR ANY REASON EXCEPT THAT I LOVED YOU, PAPYRUS!" He broke into tears, his body shaking violently. Papyrus's hand unclenched from around his neck, trailing upward to cup the side of his face gently, startling him out of his tears.

"Oh, Sans..." Papyrus replied, his voice deceptively soft and so bitterly cold. "...didn't you know that I loved you too? I loved you so much. You were my world...my big brother...the one thing I could count on in this HELL of an existence..."

His eyelights, though still blazing red, seemed to make the temperature in the room drop several degrees. "You DESTROYED me, Sans. You utterly DESTROYED me in ways I never thought I could BE destroyed. For WEEKS, I was trapped in my own Hell, wondering what I did wrong...wondering...why, if I was such a good, tidy, caring little brother...did my big brother HATE me enough to slam me into a wall and nearly shatter my skull?"

He let out a dark chuckle, digging his fingertips into Sans's face. "And then Father came...took me to his lab, and promised to fix me up...and do you know what happened, Sans? Because Big Brother wasn't there to protect me anymore?" He laughed harder.

"He FUCKED me."

Sans felt more tears stream down his face, his breath hitching hard, hands clenching tightly into the duvet under him. He hadn't wanted to believe it, he didn't WANT to believe that's what happened to his ten-year-old brother...!

Papyrus growled, and Sans felt more of the THINGS crawling further up his body, able to see now that they were dark red ectoplasmic tendrils formed from around Papyrus's spine and pelvis. _FUCK. Fucking SHIT, of ALL the things for Papyrus to have inherited from their father...! Not this, ANYTHING but this...!_

"And it was WHILE he was fucking me that I had an epiphany," Papyrus continued conversationally, curling the tendrils around Sans's legs, pinning them apart as another slithered around the smaller Skeleton's lower spine. "...that I could either lie back and let him hurt me like I let YOU hurt me...or I could do something about it." He grinned. "So I formed my first bone construct and stuck it right in his soul. And I kept stabbing it in there over and over and over, until he was nothing but DUST."

Sans yelped when more tendrils slithered from under Papyrus's clothing and latched onto his wrists, shaking violently. "Papyrus PLEASE DON'T...!" he choked out, only to be cut off by his brother's sharpened teeth being pressed against his with a tenderness that caught him off guard enough to stop struggling. A large tongue slithered past his teeth, and Sans formed his own on reflex, curling it around the other for a few moments before Papyrus leaned back, taking Sans's face in his hands.

"...I'm going to destroy you, Brother," he said lowly. "...And I'm going to make you love every moment of it."

* * *

 

Papyrus hadn't been wrong.

Sans loved it.

He loved every waking moment that his brother showed him the barest scrap of affection after heaps of abuse and pain.

He loved it when Papyrus called him 'brother'.

He even learned to love the pain after awhile, but only when it came from Papyrus. He knew his little brother was the only one who could cause him such agony without killing him...like it was a gift only HE could give. Pain from Papyrus became synonymous with pleasure, especially behind their closed doors.

After every punishment, there were blessed moments of sitting together in silence, of Papyrus using enough healing magic to make sure Sans could make it to work the next day, of nights spent in Papyrus's room, sometimes just sleeping, sometimes being fucked until the morning hours.

Sans learned to live for those times...when he could just pretend that Papyrus loved him again...when he was allowed to call him 'Papyrus' instead of 'Boss'.

And in between those times...he would remind himself that he deserved the crash from his beautiful delusional highs...that he was the one that pushed his innocent, pure brother into becoming just another torturous, abusive creature like their father was...like HE had become, in that one moment that ruined everything.

Life in the Underground was a vicious, unfair cycle of being hurt, and hurting others in turn, only to have it once more turned back onto you. Sans knew this, and reigned himself to being in the middle of that cycle, where it had all come back full circle, because he had been too weak to break it when he had the chance.


End file.
